


Envelope

by phantomunmasked



Series: It's in the everyday ordinary that we see love [2]
Category: Major Crimes (TV), The Closer
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-03
Updated: 2014-03-03
Packaged: 2018-01-14 11:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1265257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomunmasked/pseuds/phantomunmasked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sharon doesn't know how to do grand romance; she doesn't really need to, though, does she?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Envelope

**Author's Note:**

> I was bored, and had a go with a prompt generator.

Sharon hadn’t noticed it at first, hidden as it was under a number of folders tossed carelessly onto her desk whilst she was out at a crime scene (and a particularly gruesome one at that; it was never pleasant when the dead were barely children). Quite fortuitously an uncharacteristic display of clumsiness sent the tower of files tumbling to the floor, and she picked the envelope up, frowned slightly.

 

It was innocuous enough save for the heavy stock it was made from. Sharon ran her fingers over it with quiet amusement, tapped it thoughtfully against her lips. Her name was printed neatly in a familiar hand on its front, and she found herself smiling, Of course. Humming quietly under her breath she reached for a letter opener and slit it open, inhaling singly and sharply.

 

Yes – there it was. Only one person she knew wore that scent.

Deftly, she pulled out her mystery note and read it.

 

“Dinner tonight?”

 

The note was unsigned, and she smirked, folded it neatly and slipped it back into its envelope. Leaning back in her chair for a moment she thought of how best to convey her answer to her lover. Just then, a knock sounded on her door, and a frazzled looking Buzz stuck his head into the room.

 

“Captain? I was just about to go on a coffee run, could I get you anything?”

 

Bingo.

 

Sharon stood, reached for her jacket and purse.

 

“Ah Buzz – how kind of you. Actually, why don’t you let me go? I was just going to swing by the DA’s office anyway, I need to collect some documents.”

 

If Buzz suspected anything, he said nothing, merely handed over the slip with the division’s coffee orders scrawled on it. Sharon accepted it and gave the man what she hoped was an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder. He merely muttered an exhausted ‘thank you’ and turned away, seemingly already distracted by whatever onerous task her detectives must have set him. She’d have to have a word with them soon about that. Grabbing her favourite, battered thermos mug from its corner on her desk she strode briskly out of her office, pointedly brandishing the coffee order in the air when Flynn turned curiously in her direction.  They’d survive without her for half an hour or so. Time for Lieutenant Provenza to prove his worth.

 

Soon enough she found herself at their local Starbucks, blessedly relatively empty. She hurried to the barista at the counter and slapped down the coffee slip.

 

“All of these to go, please. Plus another grande latte, extra shot. Oh, and an Americano in here, please.”

 

So saying, she slid her mug across the counter, shrugging apologetically at the large order. Luckily for her, the youth seemed to relish the challenge, and flashed the captain a bright smile as she took Sharon’s payment and hurried away to complete Sharon’s order.

 

As the coffee machine spat and hissed and the smell of fresh coffee crept warmly into Sharon’s bones, she crossed over to snag a small stack of napkins. Humming along to the music playing in the cafe (an interesting choice of Tony Bennett’s take on ‘I left my heart in San Francisco’), she dug in her bag for a pen.

 

On a single napkin she scrawled ‘yes’, silently congratulating herself on her flash of creativity. It was difficult to be original, she found, when one was tired all the time, and she’d worried about not being able to live up to her lover’s romantic sensibilities -never had Sharon been so thoroughly _romanced_ , in the oldest fashioned sense of the word. Flowers, candlelit dinners, champagne, nights at the ballet and opera, thoughtfully chosen books of prose and poetry – it wasn’t till she met her current lover that Sharon realised how pleasant the sensation of being properly _wooed_ was (her ex-husband certainly was no champion in that department). She had wanted to return the favour, but found herself consistently drawing blanks. What could she do for one so well versed in grand romantic gestures?

 

This would have to do for now, Sharon thought, as she carefully carried her division’s coffee order in one hand and her thermos mug in the other, paper napkins tucked neatly into her purse. A short walk later saw her in a familiar office in the DA’s building. It was an organised mess, and Sharon huffed an amused breath. Some habits died hard. Setting the bag of coffee down in a corner she fished the napkin out of her purse and gingerly cleared a space on the desk. She smoothed a palm over the scrawled ‘yes’ and settled her thermos atop the napkin; her lover would understand the gesture for what it was. With one last quick, furtive smile Sharon glanced about the room and turned to leave. Best hurry; her division was waiting, and there was nothing they liked less (though a month ago she’d have said she might have qualified) than a cup of cold coffee.

 

Three hours later saw a text message arriving on an increasingly agitated Sharon’s mobile.

 

“Thanks for leaving me a lifesaver. Heard about your case. Stay strong. I’ll buy a bottle of that Riesling that you like for you to look forward to tonight. 7.30 at the Greek place for dinner?”

 

All at once she felt some of the tension of their unsolved case melt from her shoulders, and Sharon couldn’t quite help the small smile of triumph that crossed her features.

 

“For the greater good, someone’s got to make sure you stay caffeinated. The Greek place sounds great. See you later. x” she replied, smirking wickedly at Andrea’s reliance on caffeine. Her phone buzzed again mere seconds later, and Sharon laughed outright at the emoticon staring back at her (a smiley face with its tongue stuck out). Shaking her head, she stowed her mobile in her jacket pocket and turned back to face the murder board. The gruesome pictures of the murdered children still stared back at her, but the bleakness about her had lifted, if only slightly. Out of habit she shoved her hands in her jacket pockets, her right hand brushing against the heavy smoothness of Andrea’s letter. She curled her fingers about it, a silent talisman against the stresses of her present. Determination flared in her belly and Sharon turned to face her division.

 

“Come on, people. Let’s solve this. We’ve got four suspects and a good guess at the M.O.; I wanna get this wrapped up as soon as possible.”

 

Flynn and Provenza shared a look.

 

“What’s the matter, Captain? Got a hot date?”

 

Sharon turned and glared at Flynn for his remark, fists balling instinctively in her pockets. Once again Andrea’s letter brushed against her hand, a cool weight against her knuckles. Relax. She had to relax.

 

“As a matter of fact _,_ yes,I _do_ have a date tonight. Quite a _hot_ date, if I might say so myself. So yes, Lieutenant, if we could finish this up nice and early I would be _ever so grateful.”_

 

Honeyed sweetness dripped from Sharon’s tone and she smirked in satisfaction (in tandem with Provenza, she was rather surprised to find) at Flynn’s dumbstruck horror.

 

“Alright guys. You heard the Captain. Let’s wrap this up ASAP.”

 

It was, surprisingly, Provenza that broke the stunned silence that had descended on the murder room. Sharon shot him a grateful look and got a small, friendly shrug in return. Things were looking up, then. She patted the envelope in her pocket one last time, and turned her mind towards the murder before her. As with all things related to Andrea in her life, it had only done her good; another small thing for her to keep, to treasure; a talisman to remind her of the love that another bore her, and that she, in turn, bore.

 

A lucky talisman indeed.


End file.
